Fighting to be Warm
by CrystallineSolid
Summary: Alt. ending to 'Code Blue Plate Special'. Greg is attacked in the walk-in, and Nick takes him home while he recovers. Things get tense, and more important things almost, almost happen. Pre-slash, though it's not obvious. ONESHOT. It's a complete story, even if the ending seems like it could continue into another chapter.


Title: Fighting To Be Warm  
Summary: Alternate ending for 'Code Blue Plate Special'. Greg is attacked in the walk-in. Nick finds him and takes him home while he recovers. Things get a little tense. Hint of pre-slash, if you read it that way.  
Genre: Drama, Hurt/Comfort  
Rating: T  
Spoilers: Code Blue Plate Special, Karma to Burn

* * *

_In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm._  
_"Come in," she said,_  
_"I'll give you shelter from the storm."_

* * *

Nick stood from where he'd been crouching on the floor next to Edie's prone form. He looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes briefly. He hated to see her like this.

"Hey," he turned when he heard Finn's voice behind him. "You seen Greg around?"

He shook his head. "He was working the walk-in, but that was a while ago."

He checked his watch. With a start, he realized it had already been two and half hours since Greg started processing the walk-in.

Nick stilled, and swallowed nervously. "Did you call him?"

Finn nodded, and shrugged. "He's not picking up his phone."

"We better go check on him," Nick murmured. He took his gun out of his holster. Finn looked surprised, but she didn't comment.

They approached the door to the walk-in. Nick's heart sank when he saw that it was closed. He cocked his gun, and then, in a single, swift movement, he opened the door.

His chest tightened, and he lowered his gun. Greg was lying on the ground in a pool of blood, staring up at the ceiling with glazed eyes. Greg turned his head slowly to face them. The younger man blinked repeatedly, and opened his mouth to speak, but only a strangled moan escaped him.

The sound jarred Nick into action. He rushed forwards and told Finn to call an ambulance. He stepped up to Greg, calling out to him softly, and bent down next to him.

The amount of blood staining Greg's hair was enough to make Nick feel sick. The younger man was pale, shaky and sweaty.

Greg's eyes met Nick's and he began rambling. "He came up b-behind me," Greg struggled to speak. Nick tried to quiet him, but he went on. "H-hit me… kept hitting me… my head, I dunno, I guess I p-passed out."

"Okay," Nick held Greg face in his hands. "Shh, it's okay. Let's just worry about getting you out of here first. Can you get up?"

Greg nodded. He was panting, and his face was freezing. Nick gripped Greg's blood-smeared hand in his own, and supported him behind the shoulder. Greg's feet scrambled against the floor as he tried to bring his knees up and plant his feet firmly beneath him. He screwed his eyes shut, and with Nick's help, tried to stand.

He was almost in a sitting position when his feet slipped out from beneath him, and he began to fall again. Nick pulled at his arm hard, trying to keep his head from hitting the floor hard. Greg's body jerked, and his head bumped lightly against the ground. He groaned, the shaking worse.

"Greg?" Nick sighed, frustrated and worried. There was so much blood.

Nick looked up to the doorway. Finn was still on the phone, but she kept glancing at Nick and Greg. She ended the call and said briskly, "ETA ten minutes. I told them to hurry. What do you need? Towels, blankets?"

Nick shuddered, relieved that Finn seemed composed and knew what to do.  
"There's a grey sweatshirt in my truck, and, and, just get me anything to stop this bleeding."

Nick turned back to Greg as Finn left. Greg was looking up at him with wide, relieved eyes. "Thanks for… f-finding… me."

"Don't thank me," Nick shook his head, his eyes flickering between Greg's face and the blood still seeping from his forehead and the back of his head. He sighed. "Greg, you have to try and get up again. It's freezing in here. You're going into shock."

Greg nodded. "I didn't see his f-face," his words slurred together.

"Greg, that doesn't matter right now," Nick said. He was getting desperate. "Come on, you've got to get up."

"Okay," Greg said breathlessly, gathering himself up again. Nick stood with his feet astride Greg's knees, and leant down. He hooked his fingers through Greg's belt loops. "Grab onto my arms."

Greg raised shaky hands and gripped Nick's forearms. His nails dug into Nick's skin, and on the count of three, Nick pulled as hard as he could.

Greg managed to stand, and stumbled forwards into Nick. A soft groan escaped his lips, and he pressed his forehead against Nick's shoulder. Nick slid his arms around Greg's waist and held him. Greg gripped Nick's shirt in his fists. Even with Nick's support he felt dizzy, like he was about to fall over.

"I've got you," Nick murmured softly. Blood was seeping, wet and sticky, onto Nick's clothes, but he didn't mind. Greg was shaking in his arms, his skin cold and his teeth chattering. For a moment, Nick just held Greg, trying to warm him up. His fear was slightly assuaged just by having Greg so close to him.

"Come on, G," he murmured. "Let's get you out of here."

He wrapped an arm around Greg's waist, and pulled Greg's arm over his shoulders. Once he was sure Greg's feet were planted firmly beneath him, Nick began to help the man out of the walk-in.

On his way out, he was stopped by Sara. Her eyes were wide and frightened, and she rushed to help him support Greg.

"Sar'," Greg murmured.

"Hey, Greg," she said with a grimace, her eyes flickering over him as she took in his appearance.

She turned to Nick. "Finn told the EMTs to come into the back alley. Don't want to contaminate the crime scene."

"Okay," Nick nodded. He shifted slightly, trying to get a better hold on Greg. "Help me out here would you?" he said to Sara. "Let's take him out back."

Sara propped Greg up from the other side, and together they led him into the alley. They lowered him to the ground, and Sara sat down next to him. Greg leant into Sara, as though unable to support himself. Nick saw his lips move, but was too far to hear him.

"Don't worry about that now," Sara murmured to him. She put her hand on his head, and pressed it down onto her lap. She ran soothing fingers through his hair.

Nick paced up and down. Just as he was about to go look for Finn, she appeared behind him, holding his sweater and a small towel. Nick took them from her, thanking her hurriedly, and knelt down in front of Greg.

Greg's eyes were closed, but his face looked tense and his breathing was labored. He didn't appear to be asleep. Nick called out to him softly, and coaxed him into a sitting position. Sara supported him, while Nick removed his vest, and pulled the sweater over his head gently.

Greg pulled the sleeves down over his hands, and brought them up to his face. His eyes slipped closed. He took a deep breath, and murmured. "Smells like you."

"G, I'm gonna have to put pressure on your injuries," Nick said slowly. The younger man quirked his eyebrows in acknowledgement, but didn't open his eyes.

Nick pressed the towel against the most serious wound on the back of Greg's head. The younger man screwed up his eyes tightly, and flinched away from his touch. His body lurched forwards, but Sara held him tight across the chest, murmuring soothingly in his ear.

Nick was, worried about the amount of blood staining the towel. Sara turned to Finn, and said. "Greg says the door wouldn't open from the inside, but his attacker's got to have got out somehow."

Finn nodded, and began walking backwards. "I'll go check that out."

A couple of minutes later, they heard the ambulance sirens. It pulled to a stop next to them, and Nick stood to meet the paramedics who had arrived.

"He's got multiple head wounds, worst looked to be on the back of his head," Nick said quickly, as they speed-walked towards Greg. "He's been stuck in a freezer for two hours, won't stop shivering."

The EMTs nodded, and put him onto a stretched quickly. They loaded him into the ambulance, all the while talking loudly to each other. Most of it didn't make sense to Nick. He and Sara hopped into the ambulance with him. One of the paramedics made a rudimentary bandage to lessen the bleeding from Greg's head, and the other turned to Nick and Sara and said:

"He's stable, but he's lost a lot of blood. He may be suffering from minor hypothermia, but the shivering is good: that means his body is trying to stay warm."

Nick and Sara nodded, too relieved to speak. Their gazes flickered to Greg. He had been strapped down to the stretched, and was groaning through clenched teeth.

Nick looked back at Greg, noticing how, despite his shivering, his hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat. His fingers were curled into fists. Sara reached out, and wrapped her fingers around his fist. He unfurled his fingers and gripped her hand hard. Nick leaned forwards, elbows on his knees, and stared at the floor, wringing his hands together. He watched Greg like a hawk, taking in the drying blood speckled across his forehead, trailing down the tip of his nose, staining his grey sweater.

Greg groaned again, and it was oddly jarring to hear it from the usually composed young man. His eyes were squeezed shut and he swallowed repeatedly.

"Hey," Nick soothed. "You're doing good, G. Just hang on a little longer."

Greg let out a shuddering breath, and brought a hand up to cover his mouth. He paled considerably, and his eyes snapped open, panicked and blurry.

One of the paramedics brought out a basin and held it out in front of Greg. He put a hand on Greg's shoulder. "Mr. Sanders? Are you going to be sick?"

Greg frowned and pulled away from the man. He tried to curl up on his side, but the paramedics held him down He squeezed Sara's hand harder. She shushed him, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand.

He pulled away from her. His hands grasped at the air, and he whimpered. He seemed agitated, his whole body twisting feverishly. The paramedics tried to soothe him, but he was inconsolable. Feeling frustrated and helpless, Nick unbuckled his seatbelt, and leapt up. He stood over Greg, and leant down close to his face.

"Greggo?" he said, holding down the man's arms at his side. Greg kicked out with his legs, and Nick pressed them down with one knee.

"Greg, come on," he said loudly, feeling immediately guilty when Greg bucked up against him and let out a ragged sob. "Look at me, G!"

"Sir, we're going to have to sedate him." Nick heard the words, but they didn't register in his mind. He felt Sara's hand on his forearm, pulling him back, but he shook her off.

"Gregbabyplease," he murmured, soft and desperate.

Greg stilled, with one last, drawn-out shudder. His eyes flickered open, wild and too big. He stared at Nick, grasping at his hands where they still gripped his own wrists. Greg gasped, his mouth open as though about to speak, but just then, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he went limp beneath Nick.

* * *

Nick sat in the waiting room, head back against the wall, eyes closed. Sara was pacing in front of him, speaking in a soft, rushed voice to Russell on the phone.

The doctor had been with Greg for about thirty minutes. The younger man hadn't come to in the ambulance, and had been rushed into the ER as soon as they reached the hospital. All Nick could remember, all he could see in his mind's eyes, were Greg's wild, wet eyes staring at him in the ambulance. He hadn't expected him to get so agitated; honestly, it frightened him.

He heard Sara's voice calling out to him. His head shot up. There stood a tall, aged man in a white coat. Nick stumbled to his feet, and shook the man's hand. He introduced himself as Dr. Harris, and paused to shake Sara's hand.

"Mr. Sanders is doing well," Dr. Harris said with a reassuring smile. "He has a mild case of hypothermia, and a minor concussion, but his vitals are good and the blood loss isn't too significant." Dr. Harris clapped his hands together. "It's nothing that can't be fixed at home, as long as he's got someone to take care of him for a while."

"He's got me," Nick said immediately. Only when he saw Sara fighting back an amused smile did he have the decency to blush.

Dr. Harris merely nodded. "Well, Mr. Sanders is being stitched up at the moment. Mr. Stokes, I'd like to discuss Mr. Sanders' home treatment with you further. Ma'am," he continued, turning to Sara, "If you'd like to see Mr. Sanders now, I'll have someone take you to his room."

Sara was escorted to Greg's room. Dr. Harris turned to Nick. "Sir, Mr. Sanders' condition will have to be monitored closely for the next few days. If the nausea, dizziness and confusion prevail after forty-eight hours, bring him into the ER. I'll write Mr. Sanders a prescription for some low-grade painkillers."

Nick nodded, trying to take it all in. Before he could fully comprehend the doctor's word, the older man went on.

"It's essential for you to warm him up. Try and get his temperature back to normal by tomorrow. Use anything you can, blankets, sweaters, something warm to drink."

Nick nodded, feeling overwhelmed. He must have looked it too, for Dr. Harris smiled kindly and said. "Don't worry; your friend is going to be fine."

* * *

"Hey, G," Nick said softly from the doorway of his hospital room.

The younger man was leaning back in bed with his eyes closed. At Nick's greeting, his eyes fluttered open and he rasped: "Hey, Nicky."

Nick winced; the vulnerability in the young man's voice was frightening. He was pale and was still shivering uncontrollably, though he was now wrapped up in a number of blankets. He was still wearing Nick's sweater, and he seemed to disappear into it.

Greg laughed breathlessly. "Stop looking a me like I'm about to pass out."

"Well, you did," Nick said, but smiled apologetically anyway. He realized that he had been standing dumbly in the doorway. He walked up to Greg's bedside, and gripped the rail. "It's just, you look kind of…"

Greg quirked an eyebrow. "Pathetic?"

Nick smiled. "Miserable," he supplied. "Where'd Sara go?"

Greg sighed, and closed his eyes again. "Bringin' me water," he murmured almost inaudibly. All his energy seemed to have been depleted.

Now that Greg couldn't see him, Nick allowed his concern to show on his face. He longed to touch Greg, comfort him somehow, but instead simply said: "I've got some good news that might cheer you up some."

Greg looked at Nick hopefully. "Yeah?"

"Doc says you're all set to go home," Nick said, smiling amusedly when Greg grinned in relief. "There's a catch though: you're gonna have to stay with me till you're on your feet again."

Greg smiled. "That's not a catch." _You are. "_Thanks, Nicky." Nick merely shrugged humbly. Greg went on to say, "Sorry for ruining your sweater."

"Don't be," Nick said, fingering the blood on the neck of his sweater. His fingers brushed against Greg's neck, and the younger man shivered. Nick pulled away. "The blood'll wash right off with some stain remover." Nick took in the dried-blood clumped in his hair, and staining his neck. "You need a shower too, huh?"

Greg nodded with a groan. "I smell so fucking metallic," he growled, pulling his blanket up higher.

Nick's eyebrows rose in surprise, but before he could comment on Greg's choice of language, Sara came back into the room.

"Here, Greg," she passed him a glass of water. He tried to grip it but his hands were trembling. In the end, she held it for him and guided the straw to his mouth.

After finishing off half of the glass, he leant back again and asked. "When came I go home?"

"Right now if you're ready," Nick said. "Lemme get you a wheelchair."

"Don't need one." Greg shook his head, and sat up slowly. He closed his eyes against a wave of dizziness. "Okay, never mind. I'll take the chair," he said through gritted teeth.

* * *

Nick turned his keys in the ignition, and turned the heaters on full-blast. He directed the vents towards Greg. The younger man smiled at him, and brought shaking hands up to the vents to warm them up some.

"You ready?" Nick asked tentatively, remembering Greg's reaction the last time he'd been in a moving vehicle.

Greg sighed and shrugged. "Sure… Sorry, again, for… you know…freaking out earlier." he blushed. Nick thought that maybe it was the first sign of colour in his check.

"Stop apologizing, man," Nick said with a laugh. "What do you remember?"

Greg shrugged and looked out the window. "Sara said you had to hold me down, but you somehow managed to, uh, I dunno, calm me down." He swallowed and closed his eyes. "Didn't say how."

Now, Nick blushed. "I just talked to you… Don't you remember it at all?"

Greg shook his head, and smiled at Nick apologetically. "I remember thinking that I was in a hammock, and it kept swinging. So I'd try to get off, but every time someone would hold me down."

Nick laughed softly. "Wow, you must really be out of it."

Greg shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "Well, I do have a concussion."

Nick shook his head with a smile. He started the car, and glanced sideways at Greg. When the car first lurched forwards, Greg closed his eyes and gripped his stomach. Trying to breathe through it, Greg forced himself to open his eyes and lean back.

"Bucket's at your feet," Nick reminded him. "Don't puke all over my car."

Greg moaned. "Don't say it. I'm gonna try not to puke at all."

Nick smiled sympathetically. "Hang in there, okay?" he said, patting Greg on the thigh.

"I'll try," Greg murmured, staring out the window dully. He clenched his teeth, feeling the nausea rush through him with every lurch of the car. His shivers worsened, more out of his overall feeling of sickness than the cold. He swallowed repeatedly and kept his lips pressed together tightly. His head throbbed and stung, and even his eyes hurt. Every so often, sharp pain would shudder through his head and he'd fight to hold back a groan.

By the time they reached Nick's house, his surroundings seemed blurry and surreal, too bright. Greg didn't move, couldn't, until Nick put a hand on his arm and said softly. "Get out of the car."

He stepped out slowly. The world tilted to the side, and he leant heavily on the car, pressing his aching head to the cool metal. He felt like his world was slowly slipping away, and then a warm hand on the back of his cold neck brought him back to reality.

"Deep breaths, G," Nick said softly, noting worriedly that the younger man was panting shallowly. He'd never seen Greg so pale before, so vulnerable and out of sorts. "You're scaring me," he murmured, so softly that he wasn't even sure Greg heard him.

Greg pulled away from the car, and had to grab onto Nick's forearm to keep his knees from buckling. "I need to sit down," he murmured, stifling a groan. He felt Nick's arm around his waist, and was led forward by the older man. The afternoon light seemed blindly, and his nausea increased until he felt bile rise in the back of his throat.

He swallowed. "I-I… I'm gonna," he pressed the back of his palm to his mouth, and bent over slightly.

"Okay, okay," Nick said. "Just hold on for a minute, come inside."

Greg tried to walk faster, but found himself stumbling over every step. Nick supported his weight and kept him from falling. He fumbled with the keys and pushed open the door, half-dragging Greg along to the bathroom, where he leant over the sink and retched helplessly.

Greg dry heaved, his whole body shaking as his stomach was riddled with spasms. He hadn't eaten for hours, and he had nothing to throw up, but the retching didn't let up. Nick held him with both hands on Greg's waist, supporting the younger man as he titled to the side with every lurch.

Greg spat into the sink, and waited breathlessly as the spasms slowly lessened and his stomach settled somewhat. He looked at Nick in the mirror and swallowed, his throat burning. He leant back into Nicky, and closed his eyes. Nick's arms wrapped around Greg's waist and held him upright. The young man felt too weak to control himself, and he shivered harder, his teeth chattering together.

Nick simply held him for a while, giving him time to recover. Then, he whispered softly in Greg's ear. "Do you want to shower now, or later?"

"Now, please," Greg rasped weakly, his voice rough and his throat aching. "And turn off the lights."

"Okay," Nick practically whispered. "Let me help you into the shower first, okay?"

"I think I can manage," Greg murmured. He shuffled over to the shower with both hands braced on the wall and lowered himself shakily onto the shower seat. He grabbed the hem of his sweatshirt and tried to pull it over his head, but groaned as the movement jarred his aching head.

"Lemme," Nick stepped forwards into the shower, glad to be of some use. He gathered the sweatshirt around Greg's shoulders and then eased it over Greg's head as carefully as possible. Before Greg could even attempt to undo the buttons on his shirt, Nick reached forwards and did it for him, sliding it off for him. He undid the button on Greg's trousers and slid them off, leaving Greg in his boxer briefs.

"I'm gonna put these in paper bags as evidence, and someone'll come pick them up later. I'll leave the door ajar, call me if you need anything, okay?"

Greg nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Nick smiled encouragingly, and turned on the hot water for Greg.

He left the bathroom and turned the lights off on the way out, so that the room was only dimly illuminated through the curtains, and by the light in the hall.

Nick folded Greg's clothing and sealed them in evidence bags. He put it all on the coffee table, and then called Sara and asked her to send someone to pick them up.

It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't giving Greg anything to wear. He went into his bedroom and took out boxers and a pair of sweatpants. Then, he took out a loose-fitting t-shirt which would slide over Greg's head easily, a woolen sweater his mother had given him, and his large A&M fleece sweatshirt.

He took out an extra pillow out of his closet and tossed it onto his bed. He also hunted out another blanket from the depths of his linen closet and brought it out for Greg.

After fifteen minutes had passed, Nick went up to the bathroom and knocked on the open door. "Greg," he said as softly as he could while still ensuring that Greg could hear him. "Can I come in? I've brought you some clothes."

After a moment, he heard Greg turn off the shower. "Yeah, go ahead."

Nick came in, noticing how a blush rose up Greg's neck. Nick smiled at him apologetically, making sure to look straight into Greg's eyes and not let his gaze wander. He took a towel off the rack and gave it to Greg who draped it across his lap.

Nick noticed that, though Greg was still shivering, his skin looked less pale and chilly. He grabbed another towel and stepped into the shower. On closer inspection, Nick could see that Greg's hair was still tinged red, and the parts closer to his bandages still had streaks of blood in them.

"Let me dry you off okay," Nick suggested tentatively. "I don't want you to move your head around too much."

Greg almost nodded but stopped himself at the last moment. "Okay."

Nick carefully dried off Greg's torso and back, noting that there was a shoe-shaped reddish impression, which would probably turn into a nasty bruise soon, on the small of Greg's back.

Nick crouched down and dried off Greg's legs then set the towel reached for the boxers he had brought for Greg and held them out for Greg to put his feet through the holes. He lifted the boxers up to Greg's knees, and then let Greg pull them all the way up. He carefully eased Greg into the sweatpants, t-shirt and sweaters. He noticed with relief that Greg seemed to be warming up some with the many layers of clothing.

Nick helped Greg up, and was happy to see that Greg seemed steadier on his feet. "I'll blow-dry your hair for you okay?"

Greg smiled in relief. "I didn't think you'd own one, but I'm ever so grateful."

His words were still shaky as his teeth were chattering, but he seemed more lucid.

"My sister left it here during her last visit," Nick said with a smile. He plugged it in, and put it on the lowest setting. He dried Greg's hair carefully making sure not to touch his head, or bring the drier too close.

After he was done, Greg leant forwards, and pressed his left, uninjured temple into Nick's chest. "Thanks, man," Greg said, his voice sounding heavy with emotion and exhaustion. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Nick didn't respond. Greg's admission was awkward. He wouldn't, Nick thought, have said that if he'd been more lucid.

* * *

Nick helped Greg into bed, and sat on the edge of the bed. He watched Greg burrow under the covers, and pull the blanket up to his nose. He tilted his head to the side so that his wound was on the back on his head was not aggravated, but, evidently, something still hurt, for he grimaced and closed his eyes.

Nick slipped his hands underneath the blanket and grasped Greg's cold foot. The younger man started, but relaxed when Nick began to rub his foot with both hands to warm it up. Greg stretched his foot out into Nicks lap and sighed contentedly.

"You're still freezing," Nick muttered worriedly. He grasped Greg's slender ankle, and the smooth, compact feel of it in against his palm stirred something in his chest. Oh, Greg.

"Do you want, I dunno, a hot water bottle?" Nick asked. "A heating pad?"

Greg's eyes slipped closed, and he pressed his other foot against Nick's hands. "No, thanks… this is nice," he said softly, as Nick began to stroke his feet absently.

Nick watched him silently for a few minutes, all the while petting his feet like a cat. When he noticed Greg seemed to have dozed off, he shook him lightly by the ankle "G, you should drink something warm," Nick said. "How about some coffee?"

Greg grunted softly in displeasure "I don't think I can stomach it…"

Nick frowned, concerned that is Greg was refusing coffee he must really be feeling unwell. "You want your medication then?"

Greg grimaced and nodded. Nick felt the strangest urge to touch, though both his hands were already on Greg's skin. "Do you still feel sick?"

Greg swallowed thickly. "Just a little woozy."

Nick bit his lip. "I'll be back with your meds in a minute okay."

"Thanks Nicky."

"Stop thanking me," Nick said with a covert smile.

Greg chuckled. "Okay."

When Nick returned, Greg had fallen asleep again. He shook him awake, and helped him into a sitting position. He took out Aspirin and Zofran, and held up a glass of water for Greg, but the younger man's hands were shaking too much for him to hold it. Nick dropped the pills into Greg's hands, and lifted the water to his lips so he could swallow them down.

Nick put down the glass of water, and glanced at Greg's hands. Tremors ran through them, even as Greg pressed them against his thighs. Nick almost reached out to hold them, but couldn't find the courage.

"It's a stress reaction," Greg muttered, glancing down at his lap rather than at Nick. "Happens when I'm tired or upset."

Nick looked back at him politely.

"Are you going back to work?"

"No," Nick replied. He rested his elbow against Greg's knee and pressed the side of his head against his fist. He closed his eyes. "I'm supposed to keep an eye on you."

Greg didn't reply. In the silence, Nick felt his mind begin to grow blank. The events of the day were beginning to take their toll on him, but he didn't allow himself to think about it. Instead, he forced his tired eyes open and stood.

"I'll let you get some sleep. Call me if you need anything?"

Greg frowned. "You seem pretty tired too. Why don't you come to bed?"

Nick shook his head. "Sara's coming by to pick up your clothes. I'll, uh, probably have to go over the case with her."

Greg shook his head and sighed. "You've been awake for… I don't know, ages. There's enough room for you here in bed."

"I don't know, G." Nick shrugged, and stared at his feet. "You oughta sleep comfortably tonight, and the bed ain't that big."

Greg pursed his lips and stared at Nick's feet. "Okay, sure. G'night."'

Nick didn't respond. He was silent for a long time. Greg looked up at him, a question in his eyes. "Greg, if I'm being honest, I think I'm way too tense to get any sleep tonight."

Greg closed his eyes and quirked his lips in a queer smile. "Tense. Yeah, today's been…" He shook his head, and then grimaced. He raised his hand to his face, and covered his eyes, rubbing at his temples. His nostrils flared, and he inhaled raggedly.

"Greg?" Nick said, swallowing nervously.

"Sorry," Greg croaked. He cleared his throat and stared at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. "I guess I'll uh, sleep now."

Nick nodded, and bit his lip. "Goodnight," he said quietly. He shoved his hands into his pockets, wondering if he should say more. He shook his head and slipped out of the room, thinking about the frustration he'd seen in Greg's eyes.

* * *

Nick crept into the bedroom after Sara left. He stood by the bed, gazing at Greg. The younger man lay on his side, with one leg bent. His arms were stretched out across the bed.

Nick was too exhausted to sleep. He sat at the desk in his room and read by lamplight, until he could hardly keep his eyes open. He gazed longingly at his bed; he's been thinking of sleeping on his couch, but the idea seemed so uninviting. With a certain amount of inexplicable trepidation, he slipped into bed next to Greg, and stared at the back of the younger man's head, at the white gauze, until sleep claimed him.

Nick awoke to an empty bed. His face was buried into a pillow that smelt oddly like Greg, and he realized he'd gravitated to Greg's side of the bed.

Nick stretched and stood, holding onto the bedpost for support. He yawned and rubbed the back of his neck. He checked the time, and then went looking for Greg, wondering why he was up so early.

He found Greg seated at the kitchen counter, surrounded by the scent of coffee. Greg brought his mug to his lips, and raised his hand in greeting.

"Hey," Nick said, sliding into a stool opposite Greg. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"Mhpph," Greg stared down at the tabletop. "You're not my mother."

Nick rolled his eyes, and stood. "Is there any coffee left?"

"Yeah, next to the sink."

Nick had already finished making his coffee, when without turning to face him, Greg muttered. "Sorry."

"S'okay," Nick said with a shrug. He sat down again and studied Greg. "I take it you're still not feeling too well?"

"I'm a little better," Greg said, though he still looked pale and clammy. "Just restless."

"Did you sleep okay?"

Greg looked him in the eye with indecipherable emotion. Nick swallowed and looked away.

"Yeah," Greg's voice was hoarse with emotion. He paused and took a deep, audible breath. "I really did," he said, sounding more normal.

Nick stared at Greg's hands, which were wrapped around his mug. They were strange and elegant, and Nick had a sudden, odd desire to know exactly what Greg had been thinking when he woke up next to Nick.

"So uh," Greg rubbed at his temples, "Any news on the case?"

"I talked to Sara last night; she's got a potential suspect, a Ronald Basderic. He's the guy who was stalking Edie. Chances are he's the same man who attacked you."

Greg closed his eyes. "It's hard to wrap your head around it, isn't it? So much carnage in one day."

"Are you sure you're okay, Greg?"

"I don't know… do you want my statement now?"

Nick got a notebook, pen and recorder from his CSI kit. He turned on the record button, and told Greg to start.

"When I went into the walk in, I noticed the door slipped shut on its own. I propped it open with some kind of case, but it slipped shut just a minute or so after I started processing.

"I tried calling someone, but there was no signal, so I figured I'd just finish processing the scene first.

_Greg tried his phone again, but wasn't surprised when he still didn't get a signal. He had already processed the walk-in, and so there was nothing more for him to do except wait to be found. But he was starting to feel cold. He rolled down his sleeves, and pulled the cuffs down to cover half his palms. He curled his fingers around the soft fabric, and rubbed his face vigourously. Accepting that the thin cotton would not help much in warming him up, he began to search along the walls for the thermostat._

_He searched the whole room twice, but couldn't find it. He was really starting to get cold now. He'd been in the walk-in for almost an hour. He gritted his teeth to keep them from chattering, and leant his forehead against the wall, eyes closed._

_He stood there, mind blank, partly glad for the brief respite after the hectic time he'd had at the crime scene. Some minutes later, he heard shuffling behind him and froze._

_His heart leapt into his throat, and even as he tried to convince himself it was just his imagination, he knew that wasn't the case. He grabbed a bottle off the shelf in front of him, and turned around quickly. He saw a flash of black across his vision—the assailant's clothes, or face, or weapon, he couldn't be sure—and then, before he could strike with the bottle, something hit him hard across the face._

_His whole body jerked sharply to the right, and he stumbled, trying to regain his balance. A foot hit the small of his back and he tumbled forwards. His temple hit the corner of the shelf and a sharp pain flashed through him, as he fell to the floor. He registered something warm and hot on his face. He tried to flip over onto his back, but his vision was swimming. He kicked his legs out behind him, feeling his foot connect with something soft and fleshy. He had lifted himself onto his hands and knees when he was hit on the back of the head again, hard. Before he could react, the weapon came down again, and his vision faded to black._

Greg shrugged. "Sorry; that's all I remember."

Nick nodded and frowned. It wasn't much but it would have to do. "I noticed a bruise on your back last night. If he kicked you, I might be able to get a shoe impression off of it."

Greg nodded. "Sure."

Nick bit his lip and looked over his notes again. All of a sudden something dawned on him. "Wait," he said. "You said you couldn't get a signal, right?"

"Yeah," Greg said. He recognized the gleam in Nick's eyes. "What it is?"

"Vincent said he called the cops from _inside_ the walk-in."

"So you're saying he wasn't really in there?" Greg asked. After a moment, his words sank in, and he looked horrified. "No," he whispered. "Not _Vi_nce."

Nick shrugged helplessly. He didn't much like the thought either.

"But, but you were _talking_ to him when I was attacked. He has an alibi," Greg argued.

"Maybe he had an accomplice," Nick theorized.

"Or _may_be he just managed to get a signal."

"I don't know, G. It's worth checking out isn't it?"

Greg shook his head regretfully. "You better call Sara then and tell her."

Nick nodded and took out his phone. Before he dialed he looked up at Greg again. "Are you really okay? I mean… yesterday was… _ter_rifying."

"Yeah," Greg admitted, though he wouldn't look Nick in the eye. "It really was."

"I wish you'd look at me."

"I can't."

What could Nick say to that? He was about to make the call to Sara when Greg spoke up again.

"What would I have done if you'd quit me?" Greg said with a wry smile.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Nick asked, feeling defensive though he couldn't say why.

"I mean… if you'd really up and quit last week, who'd have saved me today."

"I didn't… Greg, I didn't _save_ you today. I just…" Nick shook his head, and clenched his fists. "Look at me Greg."

Greg looked at him with deep, frightening eyes. Nick somehow found the strength to speak. "I wasn't quittin' you, G. Even if I—I was never quittin' _you_."

Greg shook his head. "Isn't it just about the same thing?"

Nick didn't reply; how could he to that accusation?

Greg laughed hoarsely. "What's it going to take for us to find each other, Nicky?" He sounded close to tears.

"_Greg_!" Nick couldn't stand it.

"How many times do we have to try and get ourselves _killed_ before we've finally _found _each other?"

Nick stood, keyed up and tired. He slammed his palms against the counter. "I _did_, Greg! I _found_ you! I fucking _found _you in a pool of your own _blood_."

"That's not what I meant," Greg said, his calm attitude contrasted sharply with Nick's.

"I _know_," Nick muttered, as he sat down again. "I _know_," he breathed.

"You should call Sara, then," Greg said awkwardly.

"No, I shouldn't."

"You really should."

A long silence.

"Let me find you, Greg."

"Not today. Not with this headache."

"Greg!"

"I'm fucking doped, Nick! Why do you think I'm saying all this?" Greg spat. He groaned and held his head. "Fuck."

Nick shook his head. "You're _hur_ting yourself."

Greg closed his eyes, and sighed loudly. "Don't patronize me."

Nick huffed. "I'm at a loss, _Gr_eg. What do you _want_ from me?"

"_Not_hing. Not to_day_. We've already waited thirteen years, and we're not going anywhere." Greg said.

"How can you _say_ that?" Nick accused. "You were almost killed yesterday."

Greg slammed his mug onto the counter. Nick noticed he was shaking all over. "Don't you think I _know_ that!" he spat.

He leapt up. The movement unbalanced him and he swayed. A moment later, Nick was standing next to him, supporting him with his hands on Greg's hips.

Greg swallowed nervously at their proximity. "You should call Sara."

Nick moved closer. "She can wait."


End file.
